


Rescued

by Hannah_bun



Category: Original Work
Genre: Prostitution, my teacher might be concerned for me now, this was for school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:30:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7878364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_bun/pseuds/Hannah_bun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had to do a continuation to the story Sold by Patricia McCormick and this is what I came up with. I had a word limit and I spent maybe two hours on this, strangely proud of it tho. Enjoy !</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescued

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to The Cops by K.Flay - which is honestly such a good song - while writing this and I think it fits nicely or well... nicely might be the wrong word for this.

I try my best to cover my black eye. The skin is sensitive and I hold back a wince. One of the other girls laughs and I get the feeling that she’s laughing at me. I don’t get how any of them can be happy. I remember saying this out loud and one of them told me the customers liked it, “not everyone has a thing for thin upset girls…” everyone had laughed at that, or at least it felt like it. I don’t get why they do anything to get more customers, not that I don’t want to pay off my debt, the fact that anyone has given that much money for me is weird and I feel like I should repay that, but I’d rather do the dishes and clean than walk around in colourful, expensive clothing.  
“You have a customer, come, smile,” Mumtaz is suddenly standing in the doorway, looking much more frightening than should be possible. I nod slowly and get up. On my way out the door she wipes at my cheek in a gesture that could have been motherly, if it wasn’t for the rough skin in her palm or the fact that it’s Mumtaz.

I feel horribly uncomfortable, like my stomach is trying to digest and then rebuild itself. People are swarming about, I’ve never seen this many people, and they’re all carrying cameras or microphones, blinding me with their white light and making my head spin with their questions. Someone places a hand on my back and I look up into the eyes of the detective who saved me, he smiles reassuringly and I swallow, trying to put on a brave face, but all the questions feel like knifes, boring into my brain and I wince, I can hardly understand them. I look up in the face of the detective again, begging him with big eyes, I can’t do this. He says something I don’t understand, but I catch singular words like ‘she’ or ‘day’ although I can’t piece them together. Whatever he said, it helps and the lights blink less regularly now, then they’re gone and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

_The man is tall, so tall and younger than most of my customers. He gives me a reassuring smile, but I know it’s fake. He ruffles his hair and stands there awkwardly until the door closes. Suddenly his hands are around me, he’s whispering something, very fast, so so fast “-rescue.” I look up in his eyes, afraid of hoping, of believing that I can finally be free, but my stomach bubbles treacherously as he shows me a badge, a police badge. Five years here, could I finally escape?_

“You’re a good little girl, aren’t you?” The detective purrs. His smile is wider now, different. “You know, I went through a lot of trouble to get you out of there, dolly.” I don’t know what to say, but suddenly I’m on my knees, in front of him and he’s unzipping his pants. He growls, a low guttural sound as he grabs his dick with one hand and pulls my head back, by my hair, with the other. Then he slams it in my mouth, so hard it hits the back of my throat and I gag. I put up my hands up, to push back, but he just grinds his hips forwards. I should bite down on his dick, should fight, but I’m so tired and help seems so far away. Mumtaz’s words echo in my head, _“You don’t know anything, do you?”_


End file.
